The Happy Quitter! Posts
I have been very fortunate in my life. I have been to Africa a couple of times, not just for vacation or a safari, but also, I was allowed to work there for a few months. Africa! When I say the word, you can hear the love I feel. It’s the same tone of voice that I use when I say “Hi, honey.”
A bluebird! I had given up, but now they are here, in our yard. Thanks, mealworm company. It worked! Finally!
Wandering around the Albuquerque Airport Terminal, after learning my flight had been delayed four hours, I heard an announcement: “If anyone in the vicinity of Gate A-4 understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately.”
It seems I have been doing it all wrong, and I can’t thank this lady enough for explaining it so thoroughly. Now I understand.
Always there, bothered by nothing. Our Vader, having a watchful eye over me.
I stayed behind with our dogs for a couple of days, a decision my husband and I had made together, while my husband hoped for a miracle five hundred miles away.
What’s the meaning of life? Oh, how I love this question. It has driven me mad for decades.
That’s my mindset lately. I notice the bigger picture, but try to concentrate on all the small things around me that are beautiful, and before you know it, a gloomy, gray day can look pretty interesting when you look closely.
Older than dinosaurs. Hovering, studying. A Green Darner!
A first-time visitor. I had to look it up; I had never seen it in our yard or on my walks. A rose-breasted Grosbeak. “Welcome to our home!” “The feeders are full, fly little bird, and be well.”
I couldn’t find the right words for it, and was unable to pinpoint my desire. Did it even have a name? The wish to have less restlessness, to be less overwhelmed, less of everything? Less cleaning, less sorting, fewer worries, no overthinking?
In the U.S. and Mexico, Austria and Australia, Switzerland and Pakistan, and in many other countries, in small apartments and suburban villas, on farms, houseboats, and huts, today, on May 10th, many countries celebrate mothers who are doing their jobs.
A new list of the 100 best vocalists of all time was just released. On top, #1 Freddy Merkury and I couldn’t agree more. I am a Freddie Fan for life, since a lifetime, so it seems. Aretha Franklin came in second. Not an argument from me here either. I love her, but then I got lost. Why was Barbra Streisand not mentioned in the first top 10?
I took a long blogging break here, unintentionally. So much is happening all the time, everywhere, on many levels – and ACTUALLY, I would have something to say about many of these topics. So why don’t I do it?
They don’t publish the good news.
The good news is published by us.
Women…where to begin? We are a work in progress, aren’t we? Or maybe it’s just my generation?
I hope you will never hear bombs, child
and hide in bunkers for hours, sometimes even days
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My Austrian soul is celebrating, and how could it not? We were once one. The Austrian-Hungarian Empire! I remember my first vacation very well. How surprised I was when my grandma told me we would visit our neighboring state, a country I knew nothing about.
I try to peel the scotch tape from the windowpane—
so stubborn I can’t claw it off
I stop by the nearest supermarket
for sponges and cleaning gloves
throw in some steel wool
for good measure
GOD: “Francis, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on the planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, milkweeds, and stuff I started eons ago?
Almost overnight, the trees are no longer bare but are budding. Flowers are poking through the soil. Nature has awakened, and soon all will be in full bloom.
The journey of an author begins after the book is published!
(The Happy Quitter)
Happy eggs, from healthy chickens, don’t need artificial food colors. No reason to waste money on store-bought coloring tablets if you have an old pair of stockings at home and some onions in the pantry.
I love to start my day with laughter, which often comes in the form of little video clips.
A performing arts group in Vienna, the capital city of Austria, plunges into the adventure of fighting fear! Based on the poem ‘Life doesn’t scare me’, the intergenerational ensemble develops a production in which it confronts itself with the dangers, horror, and craziness of daily life.
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Many, many years ago, in the last century, before I got married, I landed on a Spanish Island called Gran Canaria, part of the Canary Islands, which, interestingly enough, is closer to Africa than to Spain.
Not one word
can describe
the essence
of who I am
and what I stand for.
It changes.
I married an Irish man—an American whose ancestors came from Ireland. We even have the ship records when his ancestors arrived, but with a last name that’s not so rare, no telling if we have the right records, and nobody really cares. He is Irish, red cheeks and all.
Just a couple of streets from our house. We had bad winds on Friday, and thousands are still without power. I am glad nobody got hurt.
Like every year, we watched a couple of Oscar movies, but none of them knocked our socks off or left us wishing for more; the opposite.
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My friend is on her way to Europe. She and her husband will spend the spring in Crete, Greece, and they are both very excited about it. They will spend a few days in Rome, Italy, a couple of days in Vienna, Austria, and will make a few other stops in other countries.
Out of Africa is my comfort movie, because I fell in love with Africa the moment I set foot on this beautiful continent, which is so different in so many ways from where I come from and where I was going to (Austria/USA).
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In American football, a blitz is a defense strategy. The opponent rushes to the quarterback in an attempt to get the ball. Blitz means flash in my native language, German/Austrian.
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There you go, this is my life in one sentence. It came to me when I read today’s prompt, and now I am leaning back in my chair on my old desk, and I feel peace inside. This sentence is me, it’s the story of my life.
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A photo of the weather yesterday morning, and it’s going to be 76F/24 °C on Thursday. WTH?
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“The ordinary man has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic. He has permitted the twilight.
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I was a translator. I chose this line of work because I wanted to see and understand the world. I wanted to help build bridges between nations. My best childhood friend spoke four languages at the age of ten. I wanted to be just like her.
Once upon a time, there lived a good king who ruled his land wisely.
He used the taxes his citizens paid to build schools and universities so that young people could learn all trades and study all sciences, thus better serving one another. He also built hospitals and trained doctors so that his citizens would not suffer from more illnesses. He had roads and railways built so that goods produced in one part of the country could be quickly transported to all other parts of the country where they were needed. He urged his judges to judge fairly and forbade his officials from accepting bribes.
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It’s a swinger squirrel. It sits in the feeder that is supposed to hold the seed blocks for the birds.
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I am my biggest challenge, and I am used to it. I can be beautiful in my own way, big as a house, blocking every attempt to go through.
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I know this look. Complete disbelief, a person shocked in a way that can’t be hidden. When reality seems too much to bear—a picture taken from afar, a former Prince fallen out of grace, I almost feel sorry for Mr. Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, but not for long.
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“Stop” is my frequent request
to quiet the voice that comes out of a globe
too often unwanted and unasked
and always unaware of my mood and needs.
It blabbers nonsense, it’s overly friendly,
Alexa, a pretender, a sales robot, eager to please.
But I am not buying.
How did I become a pompous ass? I am not sure. I wasn’t raised to be arrogant, quite the opposite.
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Please, someone, tell this squirrel that we paid $16 for the squirrel-baffle.
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I was born into an annexed region. I could have been Italian, but because of my Grandfather’s stubbornness, and because part of our farm was on the right side of the mountains/border, I came into this world as an Austrian girl. I am also American, by choice and love. The love for the man I met so many decades ago, who I followed to his country, who became my husband. Whose language I learned, whose passion I share. I am an American-Austrian, an Austria-American, a female version of Schwarzenegger. I am an Austrian in America.
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When you write, you let it all go; when you publish, you set yourself free. You wish for your book to get wings and fly into the homes (and tablets) of many:
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A moment of pure joy! A heartwarming moment. A volunteer, an older lady, showed her happiness when a lingerie company donated a great number of bras.
We drove by the house after another disappointing meeting with a landlord, who had answered our ad:
Three dogs are looking to rent a house.
I so admire crazies. The freedom to act like a fool. Aren’t we lucky?
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Treating people with dignity,
it’s easy with “normal people,”
as we define them socially.
Work, income, and a structured life—
that’s how it has to be, only then
are you considered worthwhile—generally speaking.
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If you follow the famous cooking blog RecipeTinEats, then you know Nagi and Dozer and their story—and you have cooked many of the wonderful recipes.
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No wonder we don’t have bluebirds in our yard; they are all at my friend’s house, but it will change. I just ordered a small test bag with mealworms.
Fingers crossed that they find their way to our home.
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I have spent the last week arguing with myself because I can’t argue with my friend. Her mind is made up. She will not fight cancer.
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Teamwork makes the dream work! The snowplow didn’t make it to a nearby cul-de-sac, so the neighbors got together.
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Where there’s a will, there’s a way! Determined little fellow. He made room for the bigger birds. A snowbird, perhaps?
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It’s too cold to go for an early walk. -2F in the morning, I am staying inside in the warm house, we are waiting for the snowstorm that will come through later on.
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Winter currently has many countries firmly in its grip. Where we live, in Ohio, it’s freezing cold, but an old farmer’s wisdom promises good to come of it.
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Of course, I can read, but according to a very nice gentleman on YouTube, I cannot read the way I should when you record an audiobook. My eyes are faster than my mouth; they are not in sync.
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Just around the corner, while walking our dogs, I ran into a neighbor whom I hadn’t seen in a long time. Coyotes, they are hungry (and thirsty) too. It’s brutally cold, the ground is frozen, and so is all the water.
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Not so long ago, I told my neighbor to stop texting me. I did the same with all my students and customers. I asked them to text me only in emergencies, like when the house is on fire, or if they wanted to reschedule your appointment because they don’t want to drive in ice and snow—which I understand.
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“I don’t know where to start,” and the doctor put down the needle at an appointment for a biopsy. “This thing has to come out.” This Thing was my thyroid. “I normally don’t recommend it, but in your case, there is no way around.”
… I didn’t know what it was. The tail gave it away, but I wasn’t sure. Lots of fur on this rat. Sure enough. It’s a river rat. Maybe it’s…
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The universe in its infinite wisdom has decided that I will be cheated out of LIFE by 15 years?
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A billboard on a highway, showing my book, oh, how I would love that. To bring awareness to a subject we don’t like to talk about. The Unhoused! I was one of them. I am THEM.
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I wish you all could have seen my face and my smile when I opened your cards. The days before Christmas, when the mail arrived, were extra special, and I can’t thank you all enough.
A few years ago, a man went on a trip, faithfully following the navigation system’s instructions. After a few curves and recalculations, the device happily announced: “You have reached your destination.” The problem? He stared at a huge expanse of water – as if the navigation system wanted to say: “Come on, dive in!”
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Currently, my biggest challenge is promoting my book. If it weren’t for the charity organizations that will (could) benefit from my future book sales, then I would probably say, “Well, WTH, I wrote a book. I published it! Well done,” and pat myself on one of my shoulders and forget all about it.
Every time a dragonfly/damselfly sits still, I feel like I am the one who is being observed, not the other way around. Ebony jewelwing, posing or studying? These eyes, what do they see? What’s their verdict on me?